“It’s because I’m a Corpselover and an Alterothan I suppose. We have our own standards as to what is proper and acceptable.”
“The people here, the nobles especially, would say that makes you barbarians.”
“I don’t much care what Lothasians think about civilized behavior. In my country commoners wouldn’t dare talk back to someone of my status, never mind assault me. If this had happened in Alteroth this entire city would be laid to waste.”
“Well, to be fair, the folk here wouldn’t ever do that to a knight or a lord. It’s just that there are a lot of stories about Dark Mages.”
“What sort of stories?”
“Well,” Alice tried not to offend him. “People say they steal away children and virgin girls. That they rob merchants, cast curses, raise the dead, and summon evil souls to serve them. That they kill all those who anger them or get in their way.”
“That’s not wholly correct.”
“Really? Oh I am so glad to hear that.”
“Mages, even dark ones, very rarely use curses except when they’re on their deathbeds. The laws of magic demand too high a price.”
“Ah, what about the rest of it?”
“Oh the rest is pretty accurate. Take slaves, steal, raise the dead, kill; that’s what we do.”
Alice turned to look back over at him. “Even you darling?”
“Of course, I am a Corpselover. I intend to make a great name for myself and make my family proud.”
Alice frowned as she looked at the back of his head.
“Wouldn’t you rather just be a good man?”
“What do you mean?” Instinctively he turned his head around.
He was rewarded with a clear view of her magnificent chest.
“Aaah! Don’t look!” Covering herself with both arms she turned back around.
“Sorry.” Waldo quickly turned back around as well. Wait, why am I apologizing to her yet again?
“It’s… it’s all right, I’m not angry.”
Waldo felt relieved to hear that. Then he felt annoyed with himself for feeling relieved. Why should her opinion matter? His mother never cared what Enver thought or felt.
There was a long uncomfortable moment of silence.
“Are you really going to do those things? Stealing and killing and all that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s expected of me; it’s what a Dark Mage does.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“It would make my mother proud.”
“But is it what you want to do?”
That was a question he had never asked himself. He had always struggled to meet the expectations of his family.
“What I want is to be worthy of my family.”
“But do you want to kill and steal and all that?”
“If it will make my family proud, then yes.”
He heard Alice give out a long sigh. She asked him no more questions.
Chapter 11
Why He Missed His Black Robes
Sitting in the grass with his back to Alice, Waldo slowly turned a thin knife in his hands. He was not strong physically, but at least he’d been blessed with long nimble fingers. Waldo could handle a dagger surprisingly well. He held the tip of the blade between thumb and forefinger and slowly turned it around and around.
Along with the clothes that were drying right now, this and one other knife, were all he had. Waldo’s spellbook, wand, maps, spell components, other clothes, travel supplies, and even his robes were all gone now; lost somewhere in the river.
When the euphoria of still being alive passed, he thought about just what to do now.
During the weeks spent on the road he had burned the destinations on the map into his memory. Taking the dagger he drew the names of three cities into a patch of dirt.
Stratford.
Middleton.
Norwich.
With deliberate care he drew a line through, ‘Stratford.’ The map hadn’t provided any more information than just their locations so it was no loss.
The wand had always been pretty much useless. (Though he would miss it, as it had been a gift from his mother.)
All his coin had been spent to acquire Alice.
His other daggers, clothes, waterskins, and most else in his backpack could be replaced. It had always been his intention to steal whatever he needed on a daily basis. That was only sensible as it would both provide him good practice as well as help him save.
The items he would really miss would be his spellbook, his various components, and his robes.
A spellbook was every magic user’s most prized possession. It contained all his acquired knowledge. So long as you had one, and time to study, dozens or even hundreds of spells were available to you. For Waldo many of the spells had still been useless. There were however pages and pages of defense, healing, and general use magic that would have been valuable. He would need to keep reciting the few spells he had memorized over and over again. If he forgot them they would be lost as well. Recipes for potions were also lost now, though he thought he might be able to recall some of them.
Getting his hands on a new spellbook was going to be difficult. Very few people in the world had the ability to use magic. That was the reason Alteroth was feared and respected, even when the whole world hated her. It was also the reason why the nations feared Avalon though the wizards of the Misty Isle tried to act as advisors and diplomats. Magic was a rare and wondrous sight outside of those two lands. That meant the chances of his finding a replacement spellbook were very slim.
He missed his black robes nearly as much. That was not due to any pragmatic reason; the robes did not grant him any sort of magical power or protection. They were tailored silk, nothing more. They just represented who and what he was. Without them the mundanes wouldn’t know he was superior to them.
“The clothes are dry now darling.” Alice said from behind him.
“Good.” He stood up, careful not to turn his head around. He kept facing away as she handed him his clothes and as he got dressed.
“Is it safe for me to turn around?”
“Yes darling, its fine.”
When he did so he saw her in her tight fitting white blouse and long skirt. She was shifting from foot to foot and tugging at her long red hair with one hand. Looking at her Waldo felt an annoying mix of emotions. He was deeply grateful to her for saving him. He felt pride in having a genuine Great Monster as his familiar. Despite her bizarre ideas he found that he genuinely liked Alice. Her simple devotion and protectiveness were endearing as was the faith she had in him.
At the same time…
She just did not have the right attitude.
She spoke to him freely without even a trace of fear. Assumed they were equals and refused to even acknowledge him as her master. Asked him questions and brought up issues that bothered him in unexpected ways. Despite having been that fat woman’s slave Alice was shockingly bad at it.
“So what do we do now?” Alice was still shifting from side to side.
“We’ll head to Middleton. From what I remember from my map it should be north of here.”
“You talked about going there before darling. It’s a part of your quest isn’t it?”
Waldo nodded.
“Well if it helps I still have my money.” She patted the bulging leather pouch tied to her hip. “I lost everything else but I held onto this.”
“You do you have money? Slaves aren’t allowed to own anything.”
“Elsa let me earn and keep tips. She believed it would motivate me to work harder.”
“Really?” Waldo said in surprise.
“Yes, I hoped I could eventually buy my freedom so it did make me work hard.”
“Hmmm, well that’s interesting.”
The idea of rewarding slaves for good behavior was not totally unknown in Alteroth.
Only members of the Seven Families were considered to be free citizens. Everyone else was a
slave or servant; that did not mean they were all treated exactly the same. The serfs who lived in the countryside and raised the food could not leave the land they were bound to, but were lightly supervised. So long as they produced the food required, they were usually allowed to live, marry, and raise families however they pleased.
In Alter and the other cities were a large number of skilled workers; masons, carpenters, blacksmiths, weavers, glass makers and other such. They worked in the business district assigned to their profession making not only whatever their owners needed, but filling orders for others as well. Everything still belonged to the family that owned the worker; slaves were not permitted to own anything, not even their own bodies. However, they also did not have to pay for rent or food or clothing or anything else. Their needs were all provided for by their masters, and if they were especially skilled and productive it was not unusual for them to receive special comforts or be granted certain indulgences. Such as being allowed to choose who to marry, or being permitted one day in ten to rest.
Unlike the serfs, the skilled workers were not permitted to marry as they pleased, and had to get permission from their owner. The children were automatically slaves and valuable property, so marriage and the raising of family was as much a matter of commerce as anything else. It was extremely rare for a worker to be permitted to marry a slave with a different owner. When it did happen one owner usually bought the property of the other. This avoided problems with ownership of the children.
Like the serfs, the skilled workers, or artisans, were not permitted to leave the city where they labored or go into a different profession. All the children were expected to be taught the same trade.
Serfs and skilled laborers could, of course, be sold or whipped or killed like any other slave. But in general, unless they had committed some heinous offense it was considered wiser to simply leave them be. They had a role to play in the economy and replacing them was usually considered more trouble than it was worth.
The ones who had it worst were the castle slaves and the manual laborers; the unskilled slaves. They were the class most likely to be abused and killed. The former because they were in close contact with their masters, the latter because brute labor could be done better and more cheaply by undead. So they were normally worked to death, raised, and kept working. The castle slaves were taught to be especially obedient and pleasing because any member of the ruling family could kill them at any time.
Maybe that’s the problem. Waldo thought. Alice is used to being treated like a skilled worker slave not a castle slave.
Familiars were actually treated very indulgently, far better than most any other servant. They were valuable and extremely hard to replace. But that didn’t mean they got to put on airs and pretend to be equals. There were limits to how indulgent you could be. He planned to treat Alice well, but she needed to understand her proper place.
“Want to see how much I have?”
“What?”
Alice shook the purse. “Want to see how much I have? I never bothered to keep track. I just kept it hidden away.”
“Certainly.”
Kneeling down Alice carefully poured the coins out into the grass. Waldo noted there was no gold. There was the reddish glint of copper along with flashes of silver here and there.
Alice’s hands moved quickly, with practiced ease. She first separated out the silver and then began silently counting out the copper ones and stacking them into one pile after another. When she was done sorting everything out she announced what she had. “Fifteen silver dalters, two silver wolves, twelve hundred and twenty three copper coins; traks.”
“So you have the equivalent of twenty nine silver pieces and twenty three copper, or one gold piece, nine silver, and twenty three copper.”
Alice stared at all the coins. “I have been working and saving all my life and this is what I have to show for it.”
“Well considering how low your station was its actually very impressive.”
Alice frowned. “Really?”
“What? You were a slave. Having anything is a surprise.” He held his hand out. “I’ll take possession of them now.”
She began scooping them back into the leather pouch. “No.”
“Alice, as my familiar, whatever you have automatically belongs to me.”
As she tied the purse back to her side, she gave Waldo a shake of the head. “As your wife, I consider this to be our money now, but I will decide how we spend it.”
“You have the wrong attitude.”
“What do you mean? Men are always horrible with money. They waste it without a second’s thought. I’ve seen men spend a whole month’s wage on one night of drinking and whoring. So I will be the one who decides how we spend our coin.”
“This is not how the master, servant relationship works Alice.”
“Well I am pretty sure this is how it works with husbands and wives.”
“You are supposed to obey me without question.”
Alice sighed. “That’s cute. So, Middleton?”
Waldo was at a loss. Since he could not compel her with their contract there was nothing he could do. I can’t even get her to call me master. “Yes, we’re going to Middleton. Unless you know of somewhere I can pick up a new spellbook.”
Alice blinked. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Well I’m not sure, but maybe there is a place.”
“Really?” Waldo asked suddenly very interested. “Tell me more.”
Chapter 12
White, Dark, and Independent
"Well I'm not sure, but maybe there is a place."
"Really?" Waldo asked suddenly very interested. "Tell me more."
“Well, as a barmaid I got to hear lots and lots of different stories from folk from all over Lothas.”
Waldo nodded.
“One of the stories I’d hear would be about this old hermit by the name of Roger who lives near the village of Bittford. They say he could make it rain or make the sun come out. That he could always tell when someone was lying. That he could cure sheep and cows. That he could find lost children. There was even a story about some bandits who came to Bittford. He drove away when Walton summoned a dragon!”
“A dragon?” Waldo repeated dubiously.
Alice nodded her head. “That’s what the stories say.”
“Well if that’s what they say then I’m sure it’s true.”
Alice narrowed her eyes. “Lots of people told the same stories about him. An old hermit living in the woods who carried a wand and wore brown robes. People would come to him and ask for cures or help with crops or herds. He hardly ever leaves his home so folk who need his help have to seek him out. I don’t know if he could help with a spellbook, but I thought you would want to know.”
“Well, I have my doubts about summoning dragons. Otherwise, he sounds like a hedgewizard to me.”
“What’s a hedgewizard darling?”
“It’s what we call magic users with no formal training and no connection to a powerful house or patron. They’re also called local mages or unschooled mages. They’re the weakest sort of independent mages.”
“Independent mages?”
Waldo sighed. This was basic information, at least for someone like him who was born into one of the Seven Great Families. He was going to need to teach her quite a number of things. “In the world there are three types, or schools, of mages; White Mages, Dark Mages, and Independent Mages. White Mages come from the Misty Isle of Avalon. Dark Mages, like me, come from Alteroth. Independent mages can come from any other country.”
“Oh! I’ve heard stories about the White Mages of Avalon! They go around helping people and giving advice to kings and lords! They aid knights on quests and protect the common folk! Everyone says they are very powerful and very wise.”
“They’re idiots.”
“So they’re not good with magic?”
“No,” Waldo admitted. “They’re very skilled. In their own way they are as w
ell taught in the mystic arts as my people. They’re idiots because of their philosophy.”
“I thought they just liked helping people.”
The (sort of) Dark Mage (Waldo Rabbit) Page 14
